Summer Drives
by Muffins Planned
Summary: Booth and Brennan get lost during a drive to a crime scene.


And with this story I'll announce that there won't be a sequel to "The Picture House". Why? Because I wrote the sequel, and I can promise you it sucked. So here is a one-shot instead inspired by a photo of Booth and Brennan in an hotel room.

* * *

For hours she had stared out of the window at the passing country as it disappeared behind them. A meadow with flowers stretched out in front of her, towards the horizon where a sun was starting to set. The cows grazed the meadow lazily, surrounded by flies. The foul smell of dung filled the car and Booth scrunched up his nose in disgust.It didn't bother her, this smell, it reminded her of the smell that used to hang in the air during spring when she was little. They passed the meadow quickly, but drove past several others before they found an exist and drove onto the highway.

It was his fault that they had gotten lost on the way. Two hours back he had turned off the highway and onto the country road. She had of course argued with him and told him to turn back, at every chance of turning the car she had shouted at him to turn around, but he had kept on driving until he was sure they were lost.

On the highway they were surrounded by cars driving home, and soon they were stuck in trafic that didn't move an inch either way.

The radio told them about an accident further along this road, which was sure to be the cause of this queue. Booth drummed the steering wheel inpatiently and glanced over at her who was crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I told you it was wrong," she pointed out, a bit irritated that he hadn't listened to her. From the car to the left of her a child was staring out of the back window making faces, trying to provoke a reaction out of her. She only sighed and turned to Booth who was looking rather guilty.

"It's not nice to say 'I told you so'," he lectured in some attempt of gaining dignity, his voice raising slightly to convince her that he was speaking truth.

"It's the truth," she argued, raising both her eyebrows and letting her right hand sweap over the car with her palm facing up. He shook his head while rolling his eyes.

"It's called being nice, y'know, not rubbing someone's mistakes in their face." She looked at him quizically while he started to look even more upset. Maybe she had bruised his ego, because he looked just like he did when she talked about god, she thought.

"I didn't -," she started but was quickly cut of by Booth.

"What I meant was that you don't say stuff like that because it's considered rude," he pointed his finger at her, and then noticed the young boy making faces at him. He muttered something under his breathe before he continued to look out of the windshield, once again drumming the stearingwheel.

"Can you put on a cd, I'm getting tired of hearing the same news," she asked him, already opening the glovecompartment where she knew he knept his cds.

"Sure, just not Parker's, I'm getting tired of those," he said just as she put her hands on a colorful cd filled with cartoon characters she did not know of.

Outside the window the sun was daring itself lower on the sky, giving the illusion of it touching the ground with its now orange flames. The day's heat was slowly dropping, the shadows getting longer and longer, streatching over the cars on the highway.

They argued over what cd to listen to while an ambulance speed past them on the other side of the road, both of them were quite as the red lights filled the car for a split second, the sound deafening to their ears. Soon it was gone from sight, and without a sound he put in the cd she wanted to listen to before he started to stare out at the road that would lead them back home.

"We probably will have to stay at a motel for one night," he said as the traffic started rolling. The child in the car next to them had fallen asleep and was drooling over the window. Booth looked longingly at the child, thinking of his son who was a five hour drive away from him now, safe in his bed, close to his mother.

They turned off the road and into the parking lot in front of the motel. The place was dark, and in the diner next to the motel a sign told them that it was closed. While Booth killed the engine she stepped out of the car and stretched her legs.

He closed the door and locked the car, shuddering in the coolness of the night. When they had set off from DC it had been immensly warmer, the heat was almost smothering then. They would've taken a plane if it weren't for a strike that cut off all air traffic, stranding thousands at the airport.

Inside it was dark, almost impossible to detect the man behind a counter, but the glowing end of a cigarette told them he was there.

"Two rooms, one night," Booth said to the man who was now standing up, leaning over the counter making it possible to see his face in the moonlight from outside.

"We only have one room," he told them, his voice raw from smoking too much.

"What? Only one room," Booth said to her as he slammed his palm down on the counter, then he looked over his shoulder at her who was leaning against the dirty glass, too tired to even be bothered about sharing a room with him. "Fine, we'll take that room," he said defeated, feeling the effects of driving a whole day suddenly weighing down on him.

Outside of their window a lamp was shining in, filling the dark room with light even though the sun had set a long time ago. She stepped into the bathroom as soon as they walked into the room, and he sat down on the bed, staring straight ahead into a wall that had once probably been white but was now yellowing. Slowly he took off his tie, throwing it in the direction of a chair, then his belt. Slowly he took off his clothing and then reached for his pyjama pants and the t-shirt he slept in.

Both of them were too tired to deal with their ringing cellphones, they had already told those who needed to know that they wouldn't make it that day and that they were staying at a motel.

She walked out of the bathroom ten minutes later, her face void of make-up, pink after scrubbing. Both of them smelt of sweat after sitting in a hot car most of the day after his A/C had packed up after two hours. He passed her into the bathroom with his toothbrush in his hands.

She pulled the curtains so that they covered the window, but the light from outside still lit up the room, but she doubted it would prevent them from sleeping anyway.

"I sleep on the left," he said when he emerged from the bathroom again, and she looked up at him confused.

"Why?"

"Because I've always slept on the left," he argued, his eyebrows furrowing as he walked to the left side of the bed.

"Maybe I want to sleep on the left," she said, her eyes growing bigger.

"Do you want to sleep on the left?"His voice was patient, like he was talking to a child, but she didn't take notice of it, only felt that she was being ridiculed.

"No, " she answered after a while, "but-."

"No buts, only sleep," he said, and laid down under the covers.

"But-."

"Bones, lay down, close your eyes and go to sleep," he begged her slightly, and she sighed but did as he asked.

"I was just saying that if you hog all of the covers I _will _punch you," she warned, looking over at Booth who's eyes were closed and his breathing was steadying.

"That's sound nice, Bones," he said, and drifted off. She stayed awake and stared at the ceiling for a while, her mind working too hard for her to relax, but soon she was also asleep.


End file.
